Purification in Purgatory
by Tidia
Summary: Aramis and d'Artagnan are sent on a mission that is supposed to be without incident, but their broken hearts need mending and other complications arise.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: Tidia

Beta: All mistakes my own

Disclaimer: Characterizations belong to BBC.

Spoilers: Yes, for all of season 1.

Notes: This story started because I noticed that all the women on the show had cheated on their husbands. Then I wanted to write something in the period, which is a challenge. Then there was my geography mistake- an odd mistake. I thought I picked Villers, which was on the ocean. It isn't, but for this story it is and interesting note- they have a statute of Alexander Dumas in the town center. This is a multi part story that I have completed, and will post as time permits. Thank you kind readers for their reviews, notes of encouragement, reading, following and favoriting. I will be updating Paris, Texas too.

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_**Part 1**_

Athos came down the wooden stairs, slapping a letter against his hand. Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan were around the wooden table. Porthos peeling an apple, slipping chunks in his mouth as he watched Aramis and d'Artagnan taking a whetting stone to their blades.

Aramis and d'Artagnan were worrisome in their demeanor. There were moments of melancholy, well hidden, but they were both driven to hide in their soldiering. It was because of his concern that Athos had convinced Treville of who should take on the mission.

"What are the orders?" Porthos asked around a mouth full of apple.

"A letter to the Baron of Villers-"

"I volunteer." Porthos stood up, the remaining apple tossed away. "I could use some time by the sea." The larger man reached for the letter.

Athos shook his head. It was supposed to be all four of them, but this idea was better. "No, d'Artagnan and Aramis will be attending to the matter. We have other duties."

Aramis stopped sliding the stone against the blade, and reached out for the letter. "He's going to pout," Aramis warned.

"What makes this mission of interest that Porthos would toss his apple without regret?" d'Artagnan frowned, glancing at Porthos who had crossed his arms against his chest.

"The baron is a kind man, generous and gracious host." Aramis went over to Porthos and patted his back.

"He likes and respects Musketeers," Porthos explained further. "Won't have any dealings with the Red Guards on a count of the fact that he wanted to be a Musketeer."

"He was the second son, and took the life of a soldier for a time fighting against Hasburg until the untimely death of his brother who left no heir. He returned to be the Baron and could not be a Musketeer," Aramis explained.

"I am glad to be able to meet him," d'Artagnan remarked. "Sorry you will not be attending."

Porthos glared at their youngest member. "He's rubbing it in. That ain't fair."

Thankfully, d'Artagnan could hear the threat, and wanted to diffuse the situation. "Maybe we won't enjoy ourselves?"

"Are we ordered to enjoy ourselves?" Aramis asked Athos.

Athos played along, knowing Aramis knew the reason why he was being sent away. The Queen would shortly be giving birth, and although the others did not notice the looks, Athos did. He was sparing Aramis discomfort. Aramis would never forget that it was his child the queen was carrying, but he would make peace with it. Some time away from Paris would help. With d'Artagnan there was Constance who had decided to recommit herself to her husband. There were times when they could see flashes of anger and frustration at the situation in d'Artagnan's actions.

Athos gave a nod. "As you please. We expect you in a fortnight." Some time away for both Musketeers would allow them time to recuperate from their wounds of the heart.

"With a return invitation," Porthos ordered. "Do not forget about your friends."

Athos grinned; there was no question that both Musketeers would ever forget their friends.

((()))

There were amicable discussions as they made their journey to Villers punctuated by practicing sword work and musket firing. d'Artagnan's sword work was coming along, but he needed to practice with the musket, especially with loading it quickly. This time away from the garrison was helping him to improve under Aramis's tutelage.

They were two days out with Aramis thinking about the Queen, his child, and the error of his ways. "He who acts against his conscience loses his soul."

"Did you act against your conscience?" d'Artagnan was riding next to Aramis at a slow walk allowing the horses some rest.

"Perhaps." Aramis knew his answer was vague. He knew better than to have relations with the Queen. He had tempted Isabelle all those years ago resulting in her expecting a child. With Isabelle it has been young lust, while with Anne it was consolation, the need to feel hope when they were desperate for survival.

"Is this about something I have done?" d'Artagnan frowned.

Aramis forgot that everyone carried guilt about their actions. "No, I was thinking of women, truly."

The newest Musketeer smiled. "Aren't you always?"

"No, there are war and battles and God to think about too." He thought about his soul, his immortal life after this place. He prayed for forgiveness and guidance.

d'Artagnan thinned his lips. "I think about Constance when I'm not thinking about defending King and country."

Aramis knew that the young man's parting with Constance had been difficult. There was not much that could be said about the subject, and d'Artagnan had mostly been silent. The sharpshooter was glad that the Gascon had shared his feelings with him. "She will always love you, but defending king, queen and country is steadier for the mind."

The new Musketeer shook his head as if he wanted to shake his love for Constance out of his head. "She is married and can I ask her to disgrace herself? What kind of honorable man would I be?"

The marksman felt a stab in his heart. Both Isabelle and Anne seemed to have made their peace with Isabelle becoming a nun while Anne, a Queen, was fulfilling her duty to provide an heir to the throne. "A better man than I."

"No, I am dealing with a husband that recognizes the jewel that Constance is. I cannot fault him in a way. As much as I detest him." d'Artagnan sighed in frustration.

Aramis did not see that with the king and queen. It had been an arranged marriage to unite Austria and France. "She is his queen."

d'Artagnan nodded and Aramis felt a darkness weigh on him.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Spoilers: Yes

Notes: Thank you so much for reviews, reads, favorites, and follows. So the other reason I wrote this is that we are told that d'Artagnan will be the greatest of all and so there will some of that in here, I hope. (It is finished, I am just editing before I post each part.) Enjoy.

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Part 2

"Like a deer that longs for running streams, my soul longs for you, my God." The Psalm came unhindered from the trees that surrounded them on the road as Aramis almost expected to see a doe. It was like that on long journeys, Aramis looking for ways to entertain himself or keep himself occupied.

"Did you say something?" d'Artagnan asked as they rode side by side on the secluded road.

Aramis shook his head. "Just praying."

"Does it help?"

"Don't you pray?" Aramis knew Athos and Porthos were not church goers or men of prayer.

d'Artagnan shook his head. "No, I don't think I do."

Aramis prayers were more formal, sometimes a discussion, but he knew he was asking for divine intervention. "You don't know?"

d'Artagnan thinned his lips before answering, "If God is all around us, then He knows the thoughts in my mind."

The sharpshooter tried not to think in those terms, he knew he was a perpetual sinner. He was a man after all, not a saint, and did not ever expect to reach the purification needed for sainthood. "I see. It helps me. Brings me some peace and sometimes when swords or muskets fail me, or are not enough, or my healing skills are surpassed, then the one thing I can do is pray." Aramis had seen miracles. He had also had heartbreak, but his faith helped. He could not imagine this existence without it.

It gave the young man pause. "It help," he admitted. "If you call the prayers for Athos's aim to be true, for Constance to be safe. I think I may have been begging, too."

"Still prayers just with some more intention. Perhaps that is the key for you to gain speed on loading your musket." Aramis kneed the horse to speed up ahead and away from the young musketeer's reply.

(((())))

The fourth day started with drizzle and continued to heavy rain, which made travel difficult and slow. They both wore hooded oil cloths for protection, but lacked visibility. d'Artagnan signaled to Aramis to stop.

"There's a farm up ahead. We can ask for shelter."

Aramis spied the farm in the distance, too and nodded. "Farmers are good people," he answered acknowledging where d'Artagnan came from, the young musketeer smiled.

d'Artagnan promptly turned his horse towards the open grass, cutting across the field to save time in reaching the house. As Aramis followed he could see the farm boy d'Artagnan had been. In the tall grass he was in his element, a son that a loving father had raised. Yet, Alexandre d'Artagnan would never see what his son had become, and Aramis would see his son, but have no influence. It made his heart heavy again. He did not know how he was to come to terms with this child with Anne.

The farmer was gracious and offered his barn for their use as the house was small, enough for the family that lived there. They had been invited to share a simple repast, which warmed Aramis as he was tired of food cooked in camp.

d'Artagnan took care of the horses and the other animals in the barn as if it was second nature, while Aramis laid out their belongings in the hopes of having them somewhat drier in the morning. "Do you miss this?"

The younger man shrugged his shoulders. "It was simpler being a gentleman farmer. My father enjoyed it and was respected."

"Does that mean as a musketeer you are not a gentleman or respected?" Aramis teased.

"It is a different type of honor and a different type of respect." d'Artagnan glanced to the fleur de lis on his shoulder.

"Being a musketeer is not simple." Aramis sat down against a hay bale, breathing in the greenness of the hay instead of the smell of the close proximity of the animals. The rain was still beating against the structure and he was thankful for the shelter.

D'Artagnan patted the horse he had just tended to. "I think it should be. When that's all there is."

"No politics, no women just battles and soldiering." There was the Cardinal, ulterior motives of court and women. The reason they were sent away from Paris with the unvoiced order to return in better mind.

D'Artagnan sighed in agreement and took a seat next to Aramis.

"It is living, isn't it?" Aramis patted his friend's leg in commiseration.

((()))

"What are you doing?"

d'Artagnan carried a couple of eggs, handing one to Aramis. "Breakfast." He poked a hole in the bottom of the egg and sucked it.

"That's disgusting." Aramis scrunched his nose.

"It's good." d'Artagnan offered another one to Aramis even though he hadn't tried the first one..

He waived off the second egg, looked distrustfully at the first one before mimicking what d'Artagnan had done. It oozed down his throat, warm and slimy. "No," he said after he had swallowed.

"Your loss."

They had left the farm giving a few coins for hospitality. The wife gave them a cloth filled with cheese, much more appetizing than the eggs.

"Evening came and morning came: the fifth day," Aramis said to his traveling companion, quoting Genesis. "Our journey is almost complete."

The smell of the sea was inviting, speeding their steps as they closed in on Villers. The Château de Noüe was an imposing structure with a high walls and a parapet surrounding the main structure. Two guards were outside by the gate, and a few along the parapet. The gate was open during the day for trade.

"We bring a letter from the king," Aramis called out to the guards on duty.

One of them reached up for the letter that included an introduction from Treville. The guard handed the sealed letter back to Aramis. "You are most welcomed. The Baron will be informed of your arrival."

They dismounted and handed the reins to a stable boy, and once that was done the Baron was coming towards them. The Baron was a medium sized, fit man, older than Aramis by at least 5 years. "Aramis, how was the journey?"

"Long, but I had the newest Musketeer with me. Charles d'Artagnan, this is the Baron Davide du Miller." Aramis introduced his young comrade, who bowed.

"Sir, a pleasure."

The Baron acknowledged d'Artagnan. "Please, Davide is fine. We are not at the court in Paris."

"Papa! Papa!"

Aramis and d'Artagnan turned to see a small child running towards the Baron. The nobleman picked up the child, who hugged his father's neck.

"I heard that you had settled down, could not believe it." Aramis remarked. When last he had visited the Baron he was unmarried and a known womanizer.

"Meet Gabriel and my wife, Petronilla." Walking at a faster clip to keep up with her son, but not running, the baroness was a womanly beauty. She was fit, as tall as Davide with a curvy figure and dark wavy hair that had slipped from her pulled back hairstyle.

"Charmed, Baroness." Both of the musketeers bowed.

She put her hands out to Gabriel, who was happy to go into his mother's arms. "Please, enjoy our home and dine with us this evening."

"Thank you." Aramis smiled at the hospitality. Many times when they delivered letters they were treated as if they were servants by the noblemen.

Davide placed a hand around his wife's waist. "Let them settle and find their way to the shore. You remember the place I told you about?"

"I do recall." There was a secluded beach a little away from the manor house, a perfect place for rest and relaxation. "If there is nothing that needs our attention, then we will visit there tomorrow."

They were shown to rooms and stored their saddle bags. d'Artagnan was sitting on his bed when Aramis came in. "That was unexpected."

"You can see why Porthos desired this mission." Aramis laughed. "Get some rest and tonight we have supper with the Baron and Baroness."

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: Tidia

See part 1 for disclaimers

Notes: Getting to the action part. Thank you again the reviews, followers, readers and favorites. Enjoying using my Catholic knowledge- of course in the 1600 Mass was in Latin, but I am trying to work this.

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**Part 3**

"My husband has been delayed and request that we start without him. He wanted to check on the soldiers at the gate. It is his custom." The Baroness gave a nod to the help that was in attendance.

Both d'Artagnan and Aramis stood when she entered the room, then sat once she was seated. When they were among the royals, they were doing their job and were standing. It was rare to sit down to a meal with royalty, however obscure.

Petronilla bowed her head, made the sign of the cross to bless herself as did the musketeers. "Dear Jesus protect us all."

"Your husband is most diligent," Aramis said as he was served compote of vegetables.

The Baroness smiled. "My husband told me that you, Aramis are a bit of a romantic."

"Was it a warning?" Aramis replied. He found discussions, especially with women, stimulating.

"Not to me. My heart belongs to my husband. I know to men he is envied because of his strength with a sword, but for me it strength of character." She blushed, placing a hand on her cheek. "My words do not do him justice."

"He speaks highly of you, Baroness. Truly it is an uncommon marriage." He drank some of his wine. This was love and it was rare. Yet, the Queen had a piece of him, but he did not know if it was love like this between the baron and baroness.

"Uncommon? No, I think not." She shook her head, then she seemed to understand. "We are speaking of faithfulness?" She laughed. "We are not in Paris."

D'Artagnan remained silent, his eyes going between the baroness and Aramis in a silent plea to move onto a different conversation.

"We are French though." Aramis believed that explained so much- they had a deep capacity for love and passion as a national characteristic.

"We are Catholic." She gestured to the Queen's rosary beads that Aramis was wearing. "Sin cannot be undone."

D'Artagnan kept his head bowed. At this point he knew that no matter how much his eyes beseeched his friend that the baroness was not going let the conversation end a timely death.

"It can be forgiven." Aramis believed all could be forgiven; all could be saved and repent even on their death bed. The problem was he did not know if he wanted his act with the queen forgiven, or if it needed to be.

This gave the baroness pause. "True, but why go down the wrong path?" She took a sip of her wine. "When I appear before God, I cannot say that virtue was an inconvenience."

"Women do have their reasons," Aramis was thinking about the Queen. She wanted to be loved and needed to produce an heir.

"Loveless marriages are difficult to bear as are childless ones. It is difficult when one is ordered to marry." Petronilla nodded as if reading Aramis's mind. "But perhaps you are a temptation, looking at women that are in their husbands' beds?"

Aramis laughed. It was true- he should remain faithful to the widows. "Have I been scolded or informed?"

"Neither. My son, let not them depart from thine eyes: keep sound wisdom and discretion: So shall be life unto thy soul, and grace to thy neck. Then shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and thy foot shall not stumble."

"Both informed and scolded with the Proverbs." Aramis gave a slight bow with his head. "Bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things," he quoted Corinthians.

d'Artagnan shifted in his chair. He was Catholic, had received his sacraments and gone to church, but as a son of a gentleman farmer there was no use to memorize chapters of the Bible. He knew the parts that were most applicable to life.

Aramis glanced to his travel companion, realizing the level of discomfort he had caused. "d'Artagnan has sworn off love. A woman who was not available," he said sotto voce.

"I am sorry, Sir. We will cease this conversation after I beg forgiveness and apologize. I forget myself, and the gratitude I have that I am married to Davide."

D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "There is no need to apologize. My father told me that Christ is filled with Divine Mercy. All is forgiven." He focused on his plate as Aramis smiled at the words. He wanted to leave the flowery talk to the sharpshooter.

Alexandre d'Artagnan was truly a gentleman who passed on sword skills and religious education on to his son that would serve him in the future.

"Peace. My apologies regardless and thanks for the reminder of God's mercy to all."

The baron entered, stopping by his wife, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Wife, why are you giving apologies to our guests?"

"She is reminding me that there are true women left in the world," Aramis stated. They needed the reminder that there were faithful women and men who remained true to their vows of marriage.

Davide laughed. "She has given both of you a course to follow I imagine."

"Has she done the same for you? My last visit here was not filled with pursuits of piety." Aramis spoke familiar with the baron as they had shared much over wine in the past.

"Curiosity to see where God will appear, compassion for those who suffer and joy for knowing there is life after this one. Is that not right, Petronilla?" The baron lifted his glass to his wife. Aramis and d'Artagnan joined the toast.

"Enough of piety as I am not a priest and my wife not a nun." His food was brought to him and he spooned into the first course.

"Aramis has spoken of your travels; I wish to hear more about them." d'Artagnan asked, finally feeling that he could participate in the conversation.

((()))

d'Artagnan was waiting for Aramis in the stable the next morning. Davide had kept them up long after the baroness had retired. It was a good evening.

"The kitchen has provided us with food. I would rather a walk. I don't know about you, but I do not wish to be on a horse for some time. "There was a secluded beach a little away from the manor house, a perfect place for rest and relaxation.

d'Artagnan agreed, and they had a leisurely walk as they ate apples given to them by the kitchen staff. They didn't head to the beach, instead staying on the bluff, taking shade under a tree, removing their swords and muskets. "It is beautiful."

Aramis did not open his eyes, too comfortable to do so. "A balm for the soul, like your father's words. I want to thank you for sharing them." He needed the reminder.

"It was better than some of his other words of wisdom." He smiled. At some point d'Artagnan mentioned he was going to make his way down to the beach. Aramis waved him on, enjoying the breeze and napping. He liked to be active, but he could take a few moments of relaxation, especially after a long ride with another long ride to return to Paris in their future.

"Aramis!" d'Artagnan called out, out of breath. "The English are attacking." d'Artagnan grabbed his sword and musket before Aramis had fully awakened.

"Show me." In a fluid movement, Aramis stood, securing his sword to his belt as they walked then crouched to the edge. "Damn them." They had come in on small ships, they looked to be a squad of sixty, but it was enough to be overwhelming to the Baron's forces.

As they backed away on their bellies some rocks trickled down, it was enough to catch the attention below. They heard a rallying cry.

"I wish we had the horses," d'Artagnan said as they began their run to the manor house to provide a warning. They were out of breath, but told the guards to close the gates.

"Back so soon? What has happened?" The Baron came down the stairs.

"English soldiers making their way up from the beach." d'Artagnan said, bent over to catch his breath.

"They want to take the Chateau as a launching point." The Baron slapped his hand against his leg. "Send out the call to the village!" He ordered.

Aramis agreed with the Baron's assessment. "You'll need help. I will stay and help you protect the castle. d'Artagnan will get reinforcements."

"We have stores and weapons, enough to put up a fight. We will be able to hold a siege." The Baron grabbed a stable hand. "Give d'Artagnan the best horse we have and supplies for his journey."

Aramis and d'Artagnan walked to the stable. "We can hold, but the King needs to know, and we need soldiers to send them back."

"I understand. I will be back with help as soon as possible."

Aramis enveloped the young man in a hug. "I am thinking that this is not what Porthos had in mind."

"Or he would have enjoyed the added excitement," d'Artagnan replied as he took the horse that the stable hand had prepared for him. "Keep safe."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: Tidia

See Disclaimer in Part 1

Notes: Here we go with the next part, which is short, but I split it up this way for a reason. The idea I am working at is seeing how d'Artagnan became "the greatest of them all." I suspect there will be another 2 parts. Thank you again for the reviews, followers, story alerts, favorites- did I miss anything?

Part 4

With all the haste that had been made, d'Artagnan was still given chase by a few English soldiers. They had fired on him, and he felt the burn of a musket strike his arm, but he could not be deterred. He needed to get to Paris, and cut the time of the journey as much as possible.

His limited breaks were to take in some water, hidden when he could, but he still feared he was being followed and wanted to put distance between him and the English. It was nightfall when his wound was proving too much of a distraction, and his horse needed rest or replacement.

With no homestead in site, he made do by avoiding the main road, and finding trees for cover. The horse was also tired, and made no move away from him though he tied it to some overhanging branches. D'Artagnan sat on the ground, pulling the saddles bags down with him. He wanted to start a fire, but feared the attention.

His hands went to his arm, finding the bullet wound; the musket had left a deep groove that was trickling blood when he moved it too much. Bandages had not been packed, so he made to with ripping his sleeve to be used shirt as a makeshift bandage.

He cleaned it with some water before wrapping it tight. Another sip of water and some packed cheese, and he decided to rest until the sky became lighter.

Before dawn broke he was on the road, picking up speed as the sun rose and he was able to see the road clearly.

((()))

It was the second day that he needed to stop. The rain was steady and his horse too weary to continue. He saw a farmhouse, and didn't dismount from the horse until he reached the door. d'Artagnan knocked heavily and repeatedly until the door was answered by the woman of the house. d'Artagnan introduced himself as a Musketeer and told of his issue. The woman pointed him to the barn as the place he would find her husband and son.

"You rode this distance in two days?"

"I did, and I need to get on my way, but my horse is tired and I was hoping to trade him for a replacement? I have some coin, too. The horse belongs to the Baron of Villers, and they are under attack."

The farmer frowned while his young son shifted on his feet, admiring d'Artagnan. "Allow yourself a meal and I will exchange the horse for you. Robert, take our guest inside while I prepare his horse."

d'Artagnan was trying not to accept the invitation, but the young boy was waiting for him. He nodded his thanks and followed. He quickly ate the lamb stew, watched over by the farmer, his wife and son. He felt as if he was taking food from their mouths, but they were a proud people and wanted to offer hospitality when they could.

"I can't thank you enough, but I must take my leave. Lives are at stake." He thought of Aramis, the baron and his family. They had to survive.

He pressed a few sous in the farmer's hand as additional thanks for the horse and meal, then made haste to be on the road.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By; Tidia

See part 1 for disclaimer, spoiler alert, etc.

Notes: One more part and an epilogue to go which I will probably post at the same time. Maybe later in the weekend. I am working on the next installment of Paris, Texas. Thank you for the reviews- shout out to Rhesa, banhan and Richefic especially. Now what has Aramis been up to?

* * *

Part 5

It was not the first wave that was the most treacherous as the English were testing the boundaries of their weapons, and taking the time to set up the cannons they had brought with them. It gave time for some of the villagers to take shelter in the chateau, which was now to capacity.

For Aramis it meant less space to work with and extra worry. Yet, the villagers were proving him wrong- they were quick to be of assistance to their baron. The women and those that were too old to fight on the wall were busy loading weapons. The baroness was in the thick of it, her son inside being watched over by a few of the older women who were also tending to the injured.

The musketeer wiped his face, realizing there was some blood too, probably from the chipping of the wall causing shrapnel to fly. He took aim at the one of the canon soldiers. He ducked down as Davide, by him, took a shot, too.

"Where is the curiosity of God today?" Aramis asked the baron as weapons were being sent up to him and Davide. Their initial dinner seemed to be a longtime in the past.

"In my son, Aramis." The baron looked down to see his wife.

Aramis leaned against the wall. "What caused this change? You with a family." They had been much alike.

Davide smirked, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I had to secure my lineage by orders of the King."

Aramis studied Petronilla and her comfort level with the villagers. This was not a highborn lady. "So practical of you, but your wife does not seem the practical choice."

"The blacksmith's daughter? Hardly, but I was surprised how much I enjoyed her company and treasured our time together. Needless to say I was visiting the blacksmith on a regular basis." He laughed.

Aramis's hand rested on the spend musket. "And being a soldier?"

"I miss it." The baron sighed. "I will never have that freedom that you have. I still think like a soldier, but my heart is about steady home."

It was part of Aramis that he could not see himself settling down. It was what Isabelle had told him before she died.

"If something should happen to me and the chateau is to be taken, then my men will provide cover and I ask that you bring my child and wife to safety."

Aramis shook his head. "Davide, a boy needs his father."

"A soldier must protect, and a child must live on." The baron reached over and tapped Aramis's chest. "Even if I cannot be there with him, then it is enough to know that he lives and is cared for."

The whole scenario ran through the musketeer's mind, and he came to one conclusion. "I understand." He did. His child would be raised as a prince with every luxury with two doting parents, and a musketeer that would provide protection. As much as he would not be a part of his son's life, he would still grow to be a man and do great things, and that would be more than enough.

Davide smiled with relief. "I knew you would."

"Shall we?" Aramis had a musket in each hand ready to fire. "It is an honor to fight with you."

Later an English emissary rode to the gate with a request for the baron to surrender. He did not make it to the gate. It was answer enough.

((())))

D'Artagnan rode through the night and in the darkness made it to the garrison. He called out to the musketeers on night duty to open the gate. "It's d'Artagnan! There's trouble."

He made enough noise that Treville stepped out of his office, putting on his jacket. d'Artagnan called up from his horse. "The English are amassing at Villers Sur Mer."

Treville nodded, and called out to one of the night watchmen. "Send word to the Cardinal. We will need to report to the king."

D'Artagnan dismounted and allowed someone to take the horse away. It was as spent as he was. It must have shown as he was scrutinized by the captain. "Are you well?"

Porthos ran out, half dressed, descending the stairs quickly. He reached out to grip d'Artagnan's bicep. "What has happened?"

"I'm fine. Aramis remained behind to help defend the chateau." His arm hurt, and his bones were aching, but it was Aramis that was in the thick of battle. "It's being attacked," he explained to Porthos.

"Glad I didn't go," Porthos replied.

"Get a few hours of rest. We leave in the light," Treville ordered.

He stood in the middle of the yard for a moment, until Porthos nudged him. "Aramis will be fine. I will fetch Athos to be ready to leave at dawn. You should get some sleep while you can."

((()))

Aramis could sense a change in the battle. It wasn't the weariness of the siege, but a stirring hope. "It's odd. I think there is a party attacking from behind."

Davide used his spy glass to look into the distance. "Could help have already arrived?"

"Not likely." Aramis calculated that it would be a few more days before soldiers came to assist them. Yet, there seemed to be some confusion on the enemy lines. "A boon for us, assistance is always welcomed."

"I will take this lull, and reward our benefactors." Davide smiled.

Aramis grinned in return. "You _were_ missing the soldier's life after all."

"I am not enjoying myself _that much_." Davide put the glass away. "I have not missed sleeping outside days on end, poor food and smelly company."

"That just means you're getting soft."

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: Tidia

Disclaimer/etc: see part 1

Notes: Sorry about my tardiness in posting! There is the epilogue left, which I will post shortly. I promise. Enjoy!

Part 6

Porthos was right when he said the morning light would come too soon. d'Artagnan groaned as he maneuvered his feet onto the floorboards. He hurt and needed more sleep, but Aramis's face came to mind as well as the dinner with the baron and his family. What did not come to mind was Constance. Time was mending that wound as well as keeping busy and concentrating on being the best musketeer he could be. He splashed his face with water, getting dressed quickly.

Athos was waiting in the stable with reins in his hands. "Perhaps you should stay behind."

d'Artagnan rubbed a hand down his face in hopes that he scrubbed away the weariness. "I want to see this through." The stable boy handed him the reins of a prepared horse.

Athos was not deterred. "You've made a quick journey. It is enough." d'Artagnan ignored him and mounted. "Very well," Athos added as Porthos called out to them.

"I'm starting to think that Porthos orchestrated this so he could go to Villers."

Athos smiled at his joke.

"This wasn't what I meant when I said think of your friends, but close enough." Porthos shrugged his shoulders. "Paris has been boring."

They rode hard out of Paris, but this time it was different with the companionship of his fellow Musketeers. Treville would join them later with more soldiers after reporting to the king.

d'Artagnan had to push aside the pain in his arm, the ache in his bones that didn't wear off, along with the tickle in his throat that forced him to swallow to soothe his throat. His father told him he had been a strong willed child, and it needed to serve him. Two days they rode hard with limiting talking other than to spur on more speed.

When they were closing in on Villers on the beginning of the third day they slowed, then dismounted, going a significant way on foot to hide their approach, but it was the musketeers that were surprised.

There was the sound of breaking branches and a whistle that drew their weapons at the ready until the farmer that had helped d'Artagnan revealed himself.

The musketeers lowered their weapons as they saw their youngest knew the armed man. "What are you doing here?" d'Artagnan cleared his throat as his voice came out hoarse.

"I told others of your determination, and we know the baron is a good man so we came." Out of the wooded area came a few other men.

Porthos clapped d'Artagnan on the shoulder. He smiled to hide his wince. "You stirred them into action."

"Are we going to finish this?" Athos drawled. "Aramis is waiting."

The element of surprise served them well as they were able to damage the English lines while the chateau lobbied. The reloads had to be quick to do damage and allow an approach of swords. When that happened that gates of the manor house opened and all the able bodies spilled out.

It was a bloody skirmish, but enough that the English that were not captured were attempting to run to the beach. They would be rounded up and taken as prisoners. The battle wound down as the sun started its descent. There was still enough light to see to the wounded, bringing them to the chateau for tending while the prisoners were placed in custody to be dealt with by the other soldiers when they arrived.

All the while Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were searching for their friend, determined to see him unharmed. They made it to the chateau, looking for Aramis or the baron, but it was Aramis that found them, coming up to them in the courtyard.

He reached out and hugged Porthos, then Athos and finally d'Artagnan. "You did well."

"d'Artagnan has returned," the baron called out, dirty and weary, but happy for the safety of his manor and family.

The Gascon accepted the forearm grip. "It was my duty." It would have sounded confident if he hadn't started coughing. He had tried to stifle it, but it escaped unhindered and uncontrolled.

Porthos's aggressive patting did not help. It left him lightheaded where he swayed, but the large musketeer was still there, holding his arm. "I believe that d'Artagnan is ill and that he will need rest."

"I'm fine." d'Artagnan tried to shake off his friend's concern, which seemed a little too gleeful. There were ulterior motives at work. "I just need air."

Aramis frowned, placing a hand on the Gascon's brow. "He's warm."

"I think we need to stay." Porthos looked at Athos for confirmation.

"You do truly want his time at the sea," Athos quipped. He bowed slightly to the Davide. "Baron, is that feasible?"

Davide nodded. "Of course. A room will be prepared."

D'Artagnan protested. "But, I'm fine-"

"You do not sound fine and you need rest. Take it and Aramis, you too." Athos started to walk away, and Porthos shifted his hold so that d'Artagnan was now the responsibility of Aramis.

"Me? I'm fit," Aramis called out, though the visible bruising and cuts were not in his favor.

Davide laughed. "I owe you much. The battle is over and I insist that you get some reward."

d'Artagnan sighed. It was time they gave in. He was tired, his arm stung, his throat was sore and his cough was willing to make itself known again. "I would like some wine."

Aramis's eyes crinkled with humor. "We do need to make a toast."

"To survival?" d'Artagnan allowed himself to be led inside the manor as his aching bones made his steps feel heavy.

"More than that. To brotherhood and faith, and coming through relatively unscathed."

It was toast that seemed fitting.

* * *

TBC


	7. Epilogue

Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: tidia

Disclaimer- see part 1

Notes: This is the finale! I hope you enjoy it and I thank everyone for their support. I am working on another installment of Paris, Texas which will be Commodities based due to requests.

* * *

Epilogue

Aramis's legs rested on the bed as he slept tucked into the chair beside the bed. Petronilla had cots brought in, too and Athos had put one against the wall so he slept seated with his legs extending onto the bed while Porthos was laid flat.

d'Artagnan for all his bravado had quickly deteriorated. When no one had seen him after retiring to his room earlier, Athos had gone to check on him only to find the Gascon in delirium, struggling to breath. Days passed and the three inseparables remained with their brother in arms.

Aramis slowly opened his eyes when he heard the groan. He wasn't dreaming about Anne or Isabelle. It was a good sign for him- God would provide a healing grace to his soul.

"Why do I smell like a cooking chicken?" d'Artagnan said in a crackly voice that had Aramis putting his feet down and reaching for the pitcher of water.

"A poultice of onion and mustard seed that saved your life." He poured the water into a glass, and handed it to d'Artagnan, made sure the young man had a grip on the glass. Aramis's hands hovered nearby; ready to retrieve the glass after the Gascon had his drink. "I was the only one that could stand the smell of it." He gestured to the others, still sleeping as he was keeping his voice low and the young musketeer's voice had no strength to carry very far.

"Are you well?" d'Artagnan asked after taking a few sips of water that left him exhausted. Aramis took the glass from his hand and picked off the poultice. It had broken up the congestion, causing the younger man to cough and spit out the phlegm.

"Some stitch work, but I have bathed and slept and feel fit. You on the other hand had an untended wound that the maggots dealt with, a fever and congestion." Aramis frowned. "You should have spoken of it earlier. You gave Athos and Porthos a scare." Aramis patted the younger man's leg. "How did it happen?"

D'Artagnan wrinkled his forehead. "The wound? When I was leaving here. I did see to it," he said haltingly, looking like he was accessing the memories. "I wanted to make sure we returned to help you."

"You did." Aramis thought it was time for the others to wake up. He tossed one of the pillows across the room, hitting his mark as usual. Porthos snorted awake and Athos followed.

d'Artagnan coughed, which got the two other men hurrying over. "I'm sorry for all this." He shifted in the bed. "Are they gone? The maggots?"

Porthos shook his head. "You couldn't breathe and you are worried about some maggots?"

The Gascon's hand moved up to his injury. "The maggots?"

"Removed, fattened up and content," Athos reported, scrubbing a hand down his face, wiping away the concern and replacing it with relief. He needed more sleep himself.

They had been told that they only thing left to do was pray and Aramis had armed himself reverently. He learned that God was with him. There was a plan God had with his child with the Queen, and he had a role to play. There was also potential for him to do better and help others.

d'Artagnan coughed. It was noisy and Aramis passed him a cloth to spit into. "How long?" he asked once the fit had subsided.

"Four days," Athos answered. "Treville's here now. We're to help the baron for the time being."

"It will give you time to regain your strength." Athos's eyes studied the young musketeer. He did look pitiful, but the sharp edge caused by missing Constance did not seem to be there. Aramis thought it may have been lost on the journey.

"And we all have time to enjoy the hospitality of the baron and baroness." Porthos boomed now that his friend was no longer in danger. "They are thankful that we saved the day." He grinned.

d'Artagnan glanced at Aramis with a smirk. "I'm glad that you are pleased. Next time I will try to stay healthy, though. "

"That's the spirit!" Porthos laughed. "The whole countryside is talking about you."

The Gascon raked a hand through his hair. "Me? Why?"

"The musketeer who rallied an army," Porthos explained.

d'Artagnan frowned, trying to figure out if the larger man was teasing him. "I wouldn't say it was an army and I did not ask them to."

"All is well because of it." Aramis nodded. "A reward is being mentioned."

"Get some rest." Athos said to d'Artagnan, then gave a nod to Aramis. "We will report to the captain."

d'Artagnan yawned, then coughed, but it was a short spell. Aramis refilled the glass again. "You seem lighter."

"My conscience is," Aramis divulged, watching the young man take a few more sips. "You are lighter. I will see about some broth." He stood. The baroness wanted to know about the Gascon. It had been she who had made the poultice. "And how is your heart?" The time away had been arranged for them to ease their minds, and instead they found another battle.

"Better, but she will hold a piece of it for some time." d'Artagnan answered truthfully, feeling less of the sting. He accepted that for now it was not meant to be, possibly never.

Aramis understood, and the rest would be filled with the musketeers, brotherhood, with God and adventures. Their fates laid elsewhere.

The end


End file.
